


Tales of a Mortician

by ZeldaByrdeBishop



Series: Tales of a Mortician [1]
Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28001136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeldaByrdeBishop/pseuds/ZeldaByrdeBishop
Summary: Zelda Spellman is a mortician and here is a collection of tales straight from the Spellman Mortuary.Inspired by @timelady_queenofhell & @hypothetical_chainsaw's "Tales of a Midwife" Collection!
Series: Tales of a Mortician [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2050860
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	Tales of a Mortician

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first installment of a new project I've been fiddling with called "Tales of a Mortician" which was inspired by @timelady_queenofhell and @hypothetical_chainsaw's work "Tales of a Midwife". 
> 
> Some of these tales will require a stronger stomach than other's, but I promise to do my best to warn you all in the tags if something might make y'all queezy!  
> This first one is just logistics though! 
> 
> (Feel free to provide any "mortician prompts" I have pleanty of ideas in my own brain for little mortician fics, but if there's something you want to see Zelda deal with let me know!! I'm @allaboutthatgillybox on tumblr)

Greendale, 1951

It had taken all night and all morning, but Sabrina had finally settled down. The infant’s sleepy drool began to gently stain Zelda’s silk blouse as her cheek rested against the babe’s head. Softly humming, her back finally beginning to ease into her office chair and she picked up her pen, her hand finally able to part from the babe’s back. 

One of the funeral homes in a neighboring town had sent her a letter, criticizing her business’s low prices. He demanded that she raise her prices or he planned to report her to the Greendale Police under the suspicion that she may be harvesting body parts to sell on the Black Market. Foolish. Zelda’s quill pen scraped against her parchment, drafting a letter to explain to Mr. Karp that this business was simply a pastime for her rather than a livelihood - a service she was willing to provide her town as they needed and that he was more than willing to report her as she had nothing to hide. 

She would have to have Ambrose cook the last of the long pig tonight. 

She’ll scrub the mortuary.

A soft knock rapt against the door and Ambrose eased open the door to the study. 

Zelda peered up at him.

“Auntie Zee, you have a visitor,” he informed at a whisper. 

Zelda scowled, keeping her voice low, but allowed it to carry above a whisper, considering the amount of sleep driven drool Sabrina was oozing over her blouse. “Who?”

Ambrose opened the door further, revealing Reverend Walker. 

“I’m sorry to impose, Ms. Spellman.”

“Clearly not, as you are here,” Zelda shot back, returning her eyes to her paperwork not noticing Ambrose signaling silently to the Reverend that she was tired. 

Sabrina had a habit of keeping her up, particularly when Hilda had business to attend to out of state. It was almost as if she waited for Zelda to be left alone to throw her largest fits in the early morning hours. 

The Reverend nodded to Ambrose, holding his hat to his chest as he approached the desk. Ambrose exited the room with the quiet latch of the door. Religious leaders and funeral directors tend to become quite acquainted. He wasn’t a stranger to the eldest Spellman sister’s sharp tongue and considering the baby in her arms and the lack of Hilda Spellman’s presence he could only have assumed it had been a long night. 

“Ms. Spellman, I’ve been sent by the Smiths to discuss Mary’s funeral arrangements.”

Zelda didn’t look up from the draft letter she’d resumed writing, “I gave them my information. Her body is already in my basement. The only business I have with you is how long you are speaking in my hall.”

He frowned and debated sitting but opted to stay standing. 

“It’s the hall they would like to discuss, or rather, move.”

Zelda’s pen stopped moving. 

“....They want to hold the funeral at the church.”

Zelda scowled, dipping her pen in the ink jar beside her. 

“Reverend. It clearly states in my funeral home’s terms and conditions that I will accommodate my funeral home spaces to suit the likes of any and all religious beliefs for little to no cost to the patron -”

“Which they are aware of and I had reminded them of, but Mary lived for the church and the family was insistent that -”

“That what? That I relocated my entire business into your business -”

“I don’t see what I do as a busin-”

“That despite my already generous services - I must make further accommodation, both financial and physical to please one family, who I am already charging  _ less than  _ what I normally would in an attempt to be conscious of their personal financial situation -”

“The church and I can aid in the accommodations.”

“I have it very clearly printed and in BOLD that I do not relocate my services.” She expressed, her voice raising despite the sleeping infant on her shoulder.

“Which they read, but-”

“Then they should have gone to a different funeral home!” Zelda retorted.

“They couldn’t afford another funeral home, Ms. Spellman!”

The witch abruptly stood up.

“THEN THEY ABIDE BY MY RULES! NO CHURCHES!”

Sabrina stirred against the woman’s breast bone and began to sniffle before wailing loudly. Zelda snarled, gently bouncing the baby to calm her, shooting a vicious scowl at the Reverend. 

He frowned deeply. He knew the Spellmans were not the church going type and their parlor decor was...vaguely Satanic and morbid to say the least, but he had not expected such a visceral reaction to this conversation. He took in a deep breath, trying to stay civil. This should not be a problem. Other funeral homes are usually more than happy to keep their parlors clear for a day.

“......Zelda...what can I do to convince you-”

“You won’t. I’m not stepping foot in a church. I have my terms and conditions written out very clearly. If they don’t like them they can take their business elsewhere.”

“The deceans can move the body. They can print out the programs at the church, provide all of the Bibles, decorate - all you would have to do is be present.”

Zelda shook her head, rubbing Sabrina’s back, her nose wrinkling as her lips skewed. “I will not say it again Reverend - No Churches.” 

“We will  **do** everything, Zeld-” 

“NO.” The woman’s word was final. Her eyes blazed with anger and...fear? What could the woman have to be afraid of?

He huffed and looked down to the small gargoyle that sat on her desk. “When does your sister return?”

“Not in time for the funeral,” Zelda stated, sitting back down.

Thomas sighed and turned away for a moment before turning back, “There is nothing I can do to convince you?”

Zelda shook her head and signed her name at the bottom of the letter she had written, before folding it with one hand. “No.” 

“...Then I will let them know.”

“Good. Remind them not to sign contracts without reading the bold print _ in addition to  _ the fine print in the future.”

He scowled, turning back to the door to leave, but only took a few steps before once again turning back. 

“Zelda.”

The woman glared up at him.

“....I hope you know my family and I would ensure any requests for your funeral were completed as you wished, no matter how uncomfortable they may make us, as it is the human thing to do.”

The witch’s tired eyes softened slightly, despite her best efforts, but her tone stayed harsh. “It’s extremely unlikely you will have anything to do with my funeral, Thomas.” 

“Unlikely or not, I would perform your service as you wished. I’m disappointed you wouldn’t do the same, considering the mundane request.”

Her lip curled and her eyes went back to her paperwork, her fingers stroking the pen before picking it up, ignoring him. 

He waited a few moments and then huffed.

“You really won’t change your mind?! It’s only relocating to a church! It’s not like it’s another country!”

Zelda’s jaw set deeply to keep it from trembling, her body stiffening as his voice raised. 

“I don’t like churches, Reverend.”

“WHY?!”

She painted a childishly coy look over her face before gesturing to the shut curtains around the room, her voice searing over her words. “Too bright.”

It took everything in the Reverend not to slam the door as he stormed out of the office. How cruel of her? How incredibly selfish to refuse to fulfill such a simple request? He pitied those who had no choice but to turn to her office due to the rise in funeral prices. He wished he had anyone else he could send the Smiths too.

He sent out a short prayer, hoping for such a miracle, but this prayer was unlikely to be answered favorably. He knew Mara would tell him to be gentle with the Spellman.  _ He didn’t know what she’d been through _ , but he didn’t have Mara’s patience. 

He took to slamming his car door instead.

Zelda could hear the car door snap even from her office and her eyes shut, holding Sabrina close as she leaned back in her chair. The infant fussed softly before taking to sucking her fist, while her other hand pulled the witch’s curls as her eyes shut. 

The witch would normally fight against the sharp pain, but she allowed it. The pain providing a distraction from her swimming thoughts for a few moments. 

She wrote it very clearly into all of her contracts with clients that relocation was not a service she provided. She truly did put it in bold. She had no legal obligation to fulfill such a request. 

But despite all of this, after a moment, she still found herself picking up the rotary phone and dialing.

“......Mara, when your husband arrives home, tell him that I will comply, but everything is in his hands - including, but not limited to, driving the hearse. Remind him this is an exception, not my common practice and that it will not happen again.”


End file.
